No Longer A Child
by EmAnnie01
Summary: "Maxine had never been hers to keep, not really. She had merely been a loan, purely temporary; surely she had known that from the start?" An alternative ending to Series 4 episode 8- Maxine survives but struggles to cope in the aftermath of Earl Kelly's devestation. Multichapter.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

She wasn't conscious of the pain at first. It was a curious sensation, dream-like, as cliché as it sounded. She was only too aware of the impact of the bullet rupturing her flesh, jolting her backwards despite the close range of the firing, the hot, blistering sensation of the blood against her skin, her vision blurring, pulse racing, pounding viciously against her temples. She could feel herself shuddering, gasping in panic for breath, but this whole sensation felt no different to the feeling of her heart racing frantically upon awaking from a nightmare; the brief moment in which it all still seemed real before common sense overcame her and she realised it had been nothing but a dream, that was what this reminded her of.

It wasn't until a good few moments later that the pain began to kick in.

She was still numb, blissfully unaware of the havoc the bullet lodged within her was to cause, right up until the moment her body gave up the fight to remain upright and she toppled backwards, falling heavily against the wooden laminate floor. The moment she connected with the hard glossy surface beneath her it was as though a switch had been flicked, and suddenly her body was burning, shaking in panicked desperation as the once-simple act of pumping oxygen in and out of her lungs became a formidable struggle. There was a terrible, stabbing pain in her stomach, so prominent that as of that moment it became all she could focus upon; burning, throbbing, pulsating.

She struggled to pull herself together, get her bearings; the initial shock of the bullet becoming impacted within her had caused the world to blur and a lack of awareness as to what was going on around her was scaring her more than anything. If only she could concentrate enough to see, perhaps it wouldn't all be quite so terrifying. It was her current blindness which was scaring her more than anything, that was what she told herself. Regain some clear vision, that was all she had to do, and then it wouldn't seem quite so hopeless.

But all Maxine's eyes could manage to focus upon was the stubborn blur of Earl Kelly as he disappeared out of the room, the pounding of his footsteps as he ran intensified so greatly that she struggled to concentrate on anything else at all.

She was vaguely aware of someone calling out her name; Janeece, her brain told her after some delay, it was Janeece's voice. Now she had identified it, Maxine could make out Janeece's figure leaning over her, could feel hands squeezing her own if she concentrated with all her might. But the pain… the pain was still overwhelming. It was no good. How could she even begin to focus on Janeece with this stabbing, excruciating pain in her abdomen?

"Max?" Now another voice was calling out her name, yet another Maxine recognised but couldn't find the energy to place, not when what little she had left was all being anxiously channelled into forcing her diaphragm to expand and contract, each breath an increasing struggle.

It wasn't until she heard the second voice again that Maxine finally mustered the strength to concentrate hard enough to identify it.

"No." It was a stammer, a soft, shaky stammer, so different to the tone this voice had adopted just a few moments earlier that it threatened to confuse Maxine even further, to send her into a panic as she struggled to ascertain to whom exactly it belonged. She should know this voice, she knew she should, but she was so exhausted with the effort of simply keeping herself awake… she couldn't think…

Steph; it was Steph's voice. God, how out of it was she, she couldn't even recognise Steph's voice?

"I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here." It took a disproportionate amount of Maxine's remaining energy to concentrate for long enough to make any sense of Steph's words. She could sense a hand sliding beneath her head, lifting her, but the sudden movement only caused her vision to blur once more and she sank with despair back into a world of murkiness and confusion.

"I'm sorry," she managed.

The words sounded horribly forced, strained, hardly like her voice at all. Two short words; they were all Maxine could manage to force out, and yet so much was there to be inferred.

She was sorry. She was so, so sorry. She was sorry for the fight she and Steph had gotten into earlier, just a few hours ago but what felt like a lifetime ago to Maxine now. She was sorry for being so, so stupid, for allowing herself to become so wrapped up in Earl Kelly's lies and empty promises when everyone around her was fighting so hard to make her see him for the psychopath he really was, words falling on deaf ears each and every time. She was sorry she had refused so stubbornly to listen, had failed to see that Steph had only ever been trying to protect her, to keep her safe.

It was too late now, of course. It was all too late.

But it wasn't just the events of today that Maxine was trying to convey an apology for through those two simple words. She was sorry for everything, all of it. She was sorry for all the times over the last few years when she knew full well she must have been an absolute nightmare to live with, to be responsible for. The incident on work experience just a week after she first moved in, the fake football raffle, the copied coursework essays, the lying about where she was going and who she was with, staying out all night without bothering to tell Steph she wouldn't be home and showing nothing in the way of remorse when she finally turned up back home… And then there were all the minor offences she had committed over the years; the attitude, the cheek, the gossiping to Janeece, to Chlo, sometimes to anyone who would listen, about aspects of her guardian's life which really were none of her business. The worst of it was that she had known it was wrong, deep down. She simply hadn't cared.

It was almost unbelievable, Maxine pondered, the power which a threat to a person's mortality had cause them to re-evaluate themselves, to make them see their actions on a whole new light.

But most of all, Maxine was sorry for the way in which this was inevitably going to end. She knew only too well that she was far from fully alert, but she was certainly conscious enough to understand the situation she was in. Exactly what was happening around her was still horribly unclear, but as far as her physical state went, she knew full well that she was dying. A close-range abdominal gunshot wound; Maxine had no need of being an expert to appreciate that her chances of survival were slim. And she was sorry, she needed Steph to know that she was sorry, that the last thing she desired was for it all to end this way.

She so wanted to fight on, more than anything. But she couldn't, she just couldn't. She was too physically drained to fight on any longer.

"Don't leave me, Max," she could hear Steph's voice telling her now, though her tone was weak, desperate, as though she too had already given up hope. "Please don't leave me!"

Maxine simply couldn't find the energy to tell her that she would hold on if only she could.

Her awareness was reducing rapidly as the pain became near-unbearable and the dark depths of sleep became increasingly appealing, though Maxine could sense a sudden flurry of activity around her. The pressure on her left hand had subsided; she was aware of voices talking frantically either side of her though making out the words they uttered was now proving impossible.

The just as the darkness began to claim her completely, Maxine was shocked back into semi-consciousness by a sudden pressure on her abdomen; sharp, jolting, horribly, excruciatingly painful. She tried to scream out in protest, complain to whoever it was that they were hurting her, but all that escaped her lips was a soft, pained moan.

She could hear voices again, but all she could make out in terms of the words being uttered was her own name, the rest was nothing but a blur. All she had to go by was the tone of these voices, and deciphering even that was a struggle. Soothing, Maxine decided after considerable delay, it was soothing, with a hint of something else… apologetic, perhaps? Yes, she decided, apologetic, but something else too, something she was too exhausted to place…?

Panic. That was what it was, panic.

How did Steph and Janeece- or whoever it was, Maxine was rather oblivious- expect her to keep calm and hold on when they were so evidently panicked by the state she was in themselves?

It took Maxine a few moments longer to establish exactly why the voices so close to her had become so distorted, even more so than before. Suddenly she was aware of a loud, electronic wailing; now she thought about it she was certain it had been there in the background for a while now, gradually becoming louder and louder… closer and closer?

Sirens, Maxine realised. That noise, that horrible wailing sound, it was sirens. Sirens… police? An ambulance? She didn't know. How was she meant to tell? If it was the police then that was no bloody good; what good could they do for her now? Earl Kelly was most likely long gone by now and she didn't need a god damn cop leaning over her and stating the obvious, she needed…

Screw it. Maxine no longer had the energy to think about what she needed, not when she was so sure it wouldn't be arriving until it was far too late.

And with that final, hopeless thought, Maxine Barlow closed her eyes and gave in at last to the darkness, pulse weak, feeble, but still clinging on by a thread.

* * *

_Not my first attempt at writing anything but my first Waterloo Road fic, so I hope it was OK. I know I'm a few series behind TV but I really miss series 4 and the old characters, and I never quite got over Maxine's death. I loved hers and Steph's relationship, as well as her and Janeece's friendship. And so 4 years later I've finally decided to write this._

_I'm really worried that I'm too late and no one's going to want to read this, so please, please if you get this far and you want more then leave me a review? I won't carry on uploading this if I'm not getting reviews because I'll worry that either no one remembers who Maxine, Steph and Janeece are or because it's rubbish, but if people enjoy it and want me to continue then I absolutely will, you just have to let me know :) A couple of words left anonymously will do, just let me know you like it and I'll write more, promise. _

_Em xx_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

She refused to let go of Maxine's hand, point-blank, from the moment the paramedics arrived and lifted her onto a stretcher right up until she was rushed into Accident and Emergency. Naively, Steph had allowed herself to believe that holding Maxine's hand tightly in her own would reassure her somewhat, that feeling something solid, something physical of her would calm her nerves, convince her that maybe, just maybe, it was all going to be alright.

It hadn't taken Steph long to work out that her plan was going to fail rather miserably. There was nothing particularly reassuring at all about squeezing tightly a hand which was growing colder and limper by the minute.

Then it had occurred to her she was clenching Maxine's hand so firmly that were she even remotely conscious, she would most likely have found some way of complaining that her hand was being crushed, even if she hadn't had the strength or awareness to express her discomfort in words.

Except that Maxine wasn't conscious, not in the slightest; that much was evident from her lying motionless, cold, despite the firm clenching of her hand. If it hadn't been for the regular beeping of the heart rate monitor the paramedics had attached her to upon bringing her into the ambulance, Steph was almost certain there would have been no way of her ascertaining whether or not Maxine was still clinging on. She was so cold, so still, breathing so shallow that spotting the rising and falling of her chest with each breath took considerable effort. She was still alive, yes, but for how much longer? Steph had hardly been able to bring herself to think about it.

She was the most important thing in Steph's life, hands down, no question about it. Perhaps that had been her first, crucial mistake, Steph had pondered many a time over the past few weeks, allowing herself to become far too attached. Maxine had never been hers to keep, not really. She had merely been a loan, purely temporary; surely she had known that from the start? Maxine had been almost sixteen when Steph had first taken her on, anyone would have thought that in itself was enough of a warning sign that her presence would remain for no more than a couple of years. Steph should have known better than to have allowed herself to become so attached, and she knew it only too well. It was so clear in hindsight.

But as she had sat beside her foster daughter in the ambulance, final shreds of hope rapidly fading within her, Steph had come to realise that perhaps attachment had been inevitable after all. Could she really have ever expected to have taken in a vulnerable teenager and not come to…?

Love. It was almost painful to think about it now, in light of the events of the last… however long it had been since she had arrived home to find Maxine bleeding out on the floor; Steph wasn't certain exactly how much time had passed. A part of her wanted to attempt to sever all emotional ties, to pretend that she and her foster daughter had only ever been close friends, nothing more. It would have made it all a damned sight easier to cope with if only she had succeeded.

But then Steph had glanced down at Maxine's still form on the stretcher beside her, taken a few brief moments to contemplate her lifeless features and brush stray strands of hair away from her face, and no sooner had she finished a fresh, overwhelming sense of guilt had washed over her. Because in that moment, trying to deny to herself that she had ever felt love towards Maxine felt like a complete and utter betrayal.

Of course she had felt love towards her foster daughter; how could she not have done? Beneath the hard exterior, Maxine had turned out to be rather more gentle and caring than anybody could have guessed. Now, two years on, she was far from the same troubled teenager who had first moved in. There had been several moments over those two years of having Maxine in which Steph had dared to wonder if perhaps this was what it was like to have a child, to be a mother. She cared about Maxine more than she had ever cared about anyone else in the world, loved her, no matter what she did, however much trouble she caused, whatever she said in a moment of irrational anger. Unconditional, perhaps that was the right word. The love she felt for Maxine was unconditional, the sort a mother felt towards her child. There was no point denying it, and trying to do so felt so much like a terrible betrayal that Steph couldn't bring herself to continue to do so any longer.

But had Maxine ever felt the same way? That, Steph had decided mournfully during that long ambulance journey, was somewhat debatable, in light of everything that had happened over the past few weeks. Before the arrival of Earl Kelly in Maxine's life, Steph had never given the issue too much thought. Maxine had seemed happy enough living with her French teacher; perhaps it had never been the ideal set-up as far as she was concerned, but it had worked perfectly well for those two years. Before Earl had appeared and threatened their living arrangements, all that had seemed to matter was that Maxine had seemed contented, affectionate, changed for the better in so many ways.

Yet ever since Maxine had announced her plans to move in with Earl Kelly, Steph hadn't quite managed to succeed in stopping herself from worrying that her feelings for her foster daughter had never been completely returned. _'You've been great to me and everything, but I'm grown up now, I can make my own decisions'_; that was what she had said.

Somehow those words had stung Steph far more than she could possibly have anticipated.

How was it possible that the journey to the hospital had seemed to last a lifetime, yet the moment in which Steph finally was forced to let go of Maxine's hand still succeeded in coming far too soon? The paramedics allowed her to continue cling to her hand as Maxine was brought out of the ambulance, but the moment they were through the doors of Accident and Emergency she was batted away, pushed into the waiting area as the doors slammed shut and told someone would be out to speak to her as soon as possible.

After a frantic forty minutes of panic and worry, Maxine's horribly still, cold body right in front of her, taunting her, all of a sudden Steph was all alone. She had been forced to leave Janeece behind at her house; the paramedics had insisted on only one person accompanying Maxine in the ambulance. At the time, a selfish part of her had been almost glad of that rule. Steph had wanted Maxine all to herself, to not have to share her with anyone despite the fact that she was deeply unconscious and totally unresponsive, just in case… in case something happened and… she couldn't bring herself even to think about that.

Now, however, sat by herself in a clinical hospital waiting room in limbo, hit with a fresh wave of terror each and every time a doctor appeared in the corridor, Steph was beginning to wish she did have someone there with her after all. Attempting to hold herself together all alone was fast proving itself to be too much, though when she tried to think of whom she might choose to help her cope with the pain and uncertainty of a situation such as this, the only person who seemed to spring to mind was Maxine herself. She had been the only constant in Steph's life those past two years; she hadn't been particularly close to her family for a long time now and was yet to enter into a relationship which lasted longer than a few brief months. She was a teenager, yes, and they weren't exactly renowned for their compassionate words of wisdom, but somehow Maxine Barlow had still managed to make everything seem a little better, just when Steph needed it most.

Had. She had used 'had', not 'was'. Past tense. In her mind, Steph had written off Maxine already without even realising it.

Her poor baby. Her poor, poor baby. Admittedly the Maxine Steph knew had only ever been in her life as a teenager, but that, she had concluded, was hardly the point. Perhaps that had been the problem, perhaps it had been her stubborn determination to protect Maxine as though she were her baby coupled with a point-blank refusal to accept her being almost an adult which had caused the recent rift between them. She didn't want Maxine to grow up, Steph was more than aware of that, but at the same time she had accepted that it was inevitable, that there would come a time when she had to stand back and allow her to look after herself. She knew that, she had thought she was prepared for it. Damn it, she was prepared for it. She just hadn't been prepared to stand back and watch Maxine throw her life away in the company of Earl Kelly.

She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it, the waiting. She had never been particularly patient, but this… this was pure psychological and emotional torture. Her foster daughter had been shot by her psychopathic monster of a boyfriend, for god's sake; how could the doctors possibly expect her to simply sit quietly and wait for news? A part of Steph wanted to storm out of the waiting area and through the doors at the other end of the room marked 'staff only', to search and search until she found Maxine and hold her close, refuse to let her go. But deep down, Steph knew that she couldn't. Somehow she had to try and be patient, to hold herself together and wait, hope and pray until then that when at last a doctor appeared in the doorway and called out Maxine's name, it would be the news she wanted to hear.

If it wasn't… if… if she was… God only knew what she would do.

Steph managed almost another ten minutes before her anxiety finally got the better of her. She had made a pact with herself: she would give the doctors ten more minutes, and if when that time was up she had still heard nothing as to Maxine's condition then she would make her way over to the front desk and ask for herself. But it was only just seven minutes from the moment she made her pact before Steph's nerves finally got the better of her. She couldn't do it, she just couldn't. She couldn't sit around in that waiting room any longer, oblivious to what was happening on the other side of the door. Not knowing was definitely the worst part, she had come to that conclusion several times over during her time in the waiting area. Even if the news she was to be given was the worst possible, surely it would be better to know, to be removed from this turmoil?

She hoped so. She was fast running out of coping strategies.

"Excuse me?"

The sympathetic look on the receptionist's face as she looked up from her computer screen told Steph all she needed to know as far as her current appearance went. After all the tears which had fallen since she had arrived home earlier that afternoon to find Maxine bleeding on the floor, she hadn't dared venture off in search of a mirror, even if it would provide something of a distraction from the worry and heartache. She knew already that she must look a complete and utter mess; there was no need of finding a mirror to prove it.

"I… I'm…" she stammered hesitantly, unsure of what to say. She hadn't exactly thought this through; she had been so desperate for an update on Maxine's condition that she had thrown herself right in at the deep end without stopping to consider how to word her request.

"I'm Maxine Barlow's guardian," Steph managed at last, fighting to keep her voice from trembling. "She was brought in…" she trailed off; now she thought about it, Steph wasn't entirely sure how long ago they had arrived at the hospital… half an hour? Forty minutes? "She was brought in a while ago, g-gunshot wound…"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything yet," the receptionist told her abruptly. "One of the doctors working on her will be out to speak to you as soon as they have anything to report, in the meantime you're just going to have to sit and wait, I'm afraid."

"But… but I'm her…"

"Her guardian? I know, you said. Someone will be out as soon as there's any news. Next please!"

It was only once she on the opposite side of the room, alone in a quiet corner, that Steph gave in to the overwhelming sea of emotions and allowed them to consume her completely.

* * *

_I wasn't planning on updating for another few days, but I got such lovely reviews for the prologue that I wanted to say thank you :) Massive virtual hugs are heading your way Just A Mad Woman With A Box, WritingWhat'sOnMyMind, WRFan2013, Beano Baby, Iris and waterloo road2000, I honestly can't tell you how happy you made me, I was so worried no one was going to want to read this and you proved me wrong, so thank you. _

_If you want another chapter, you're going to have to keep reviewing though :P And if you haven't yet, maybe now's the time to start? As long or as short as you like, just let me know you're still enjoying this and I'll keep posting. _

_Em xx_

_PS, if there's anything you'd like to see included in this, feel free to ask. I'm not promising anything, but if I can work it into the plot then I will, please bear in mind this is Maxine-centred though. And I'm not writing anything which will up the rating to M, sorry. But other than that, I'll give anything in character a go if it works with what I have planned :) _


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Steph had become so lost in her own world of worry and despair that the sound of her phone ringing caused her to jump, considerably startled. It took a several moments of frantic rummaging in her handbag to locate her mobile; that in itself was rather out-of-character. She had thrown the bare essentials into her handbag in such a panic when at last the paramedics had arrived that up until the moment it had begun to ring, she hadn't even known for sure whether or not she had ended up bringing it with her at all.

The incoming call was not a number which she recognised, but Steph answered it all the same. It was most likely a wrong number, she thought to herself, but even that would provide her with something vaguely resembling a distraction, even if it preoccupied her for a mere handful of seconds.

"Hello?" If it was a wrong number, Steph realised with a sinking feeling, then the rather horribly obvious tremor to her voice as she continued to find to regain control of her tear ducts would undoubtedly cause her to embarrass herself to a somewhat oblivious, unsuspecting stranger.

"Miss Haydock? Miss Haydock, it's Janeece."

"Janeece?" Hearing Janeece's voice at the other end of the line had thrown Steph a little. Perhaps she should have expected her to call sooner or later, were she thinking rationally, but rational thought had abandoned her to the company of panic the moment she had entered her living room and the devastating damage done by Earl Kelly had become all too clear.

"Janeece, how did you get this number?" Steph wasn't quite sure whether or not the irritable tone to her voice as she posed that particular question was intentional. She had spent so much of her time sat alone in the hospital waiting area thus far wishing she had someone else there with her, but now, confronted with a distraught-sounding Janeece at the other end of the line, suddenly that idea was no longer quite as appealing as it had been before. The pain in Janeece's voice was only too evident, even down a phone line which was crackling menacingly, threatening to cut out at any given moment.

"I got it from Max's phone," Janeece admitted, her voice tainted with guilt. "I didn't think she'd mind, not when it's you I wanted to speak to. Miss?" Suddenly Janeece's tone was shakier than it had been before; that in itself was quite a feat, Steph sighed grimly.

"Miss, is Max… is she…?"

She couldn't quite force herself to utter the concluding words of that particular enquiry, though Steph didn't need to hear those final, unspeakable words to comprehend exactly what Janeece was attempting to ask.

As far as Steph could tell, she had two options as to how to proceed from this point forward. Her first option: to do her utmost to reassure Janeece that Maxine was going to be OK, that she would recover, that everything was going to resolve itself perfectly given time and in a few short weeks Maxine would be well on the way to recovery, Earl Kelly locked away for a long, long time and unable to hurt her ever again.

In many ways, that seemed to be the kindest course of action. Steph wouldn't wish the agonising worry she was currently experiencing on anybody, least of all Janeece, not when she had been such a loyal friend to Maxine over the past two years. Surely it would be kinder to protect her from the reality of this awful situation, allow her to have a little hope and optimism?

Or alternatively, there was always a second option: to tell it all to Janeece exactly as it was, to be honest, upfront. But hand in hand with that honesty would come the consequential worry and pain on Janeece's part as well as her own. By telling Janeece that so far she knew nothing at all, had no guarantees that everything was going to be even remotely alright come the end of this harrowing nightmare, she would no longer be able to protect her from the worst of Earl Kelly's legacy. Janeece might be eighteen years old but in so many ways she was still a child, Steph was only too aware of that. Would she have it within her to cope with such a murky, uncertain reality?

Her conclusion? Possibly not, but to lie to Janeece about something so serious would be utterly unforgivable.

"I don't know, Janeece," Steph admitted at last, voice breaking. "I don't have a bloody clue, they won't tell me anything."

"What, nothing?" Janeece asked, a curiously innocent tone creeping into her voice amidst the terror. "That's well out of order, Miss, they have to tell you something! You're Max's…" she trailed off. "You know! They have to tell you what's happening to Maxine, they have to!"

"I know, I know, Janeece," Steph sighed. "I know. Look, I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything, alright?"

"Can't I come and wait with you?"

"Ah… Janeece… listen," Steph began cautiously, suddenly rather conflicted. A selfish part of her desperately wanted to agree, to have some company, someone to share the agony of this seemingly infinite wait for news with.

But she couldn't allow herself to be selfish. It wasn't fair on Janeece to put her through this emotional torment purely so that she herself would not have to brave it alone any longer, and deep down Steph knew it.

She had already failed to protect Maxine today. She wouldn't allow herself to fail another vulnerable teenager a matter of hours later.

"It's probably best that you go home for now, Janeece," Steph tried gently, not completely convinced that Janeece was going to fool for her act but determined to battle on with her attempt regardless. "I expect someone will be coming to update me soon, and if they've got Max… if…" All of a sudden it had become exceedingly difficult to force the words out. "If they've had to operate then they'll have Maxine in intensive care, I guess, they only allow one visitor at a time I think…"

"OK." Janeece's tone was defeated, emotionally drained, the very epitome of shocked and struggling to come to terms with the events of that fateful afternoon. Yet unusually for her, there was nothing in the way of fire and force within it; it would seem that Earl Kelly had stolen that from her the moment he had pulled the trigger on her best friend. "But Miss, you'll call me as soon as she wakes up, won't you?"

"Oh Janeece, of course I will…"

"And you'll give her a hug from me, yeah? As soon as she wakes up?"

"Janeece, as soon as she wakes up I'll give you a call and you can come and give her one yourself, alright? I promise."

"And if… if she… you'll…?"

"Oh Janeece, that's not going to happen," Steph attempted to insist, desperately hoping she sounded far more certain than she felt. "You know what Maxine's like, when have you ever known her to give up on something when she could prove us all wrong instead, hey? She'll be fine."

"But what if she's not? What if she doesn't…?"

"She will," Steph said firmly, giving up the battle and resorting to false promises instead. It was wrong, she knew it was, and yet attempting to have an honest, open conversation was beyond her current capabilities. Maxine was presently hanging precariously between life and death by a single, fragile thread, unravelling a little more with each and every passing moment, and deep down, both of them knew it. "She will, Janeece, of course she will. Look, I'd better go, I expect someone will want to talk to me in a… anyway, I'll call you as soon as I know what's happening OK? Bye for now."

And with that said, Steph put down the phone before giving Janeece the chance to try and re-engage her in conversation.

She had changed her mind about wanting someone there with her to keep her company through these long, painful minutes.

If she couldn't have her Maxine, she would far rather be well and truly alone.

* * *

_Sorry it's not so long, but I wanted to get something up today and I promise the next one is longer, this just seemed like the right place to end this chapter. Huge hugs to WaterlooRoad06, Guest, WrittingWhat'sOnMyMind, WRFan2013 and Just A Mad Woman With A Box for your wonderful reviews, you guys are just the best. _

_Reviews make me write much faster and are the reason I upload, so please do keep them coming- the more this gets, the faster I'll upload :) And any requests, please let me know and I'll try and work them in if I can._

_Em xx_


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was getting on for seven in the evening before finally Maxine's name was called out by a weary-looking doctor from the corridor at the back of the waiting area. Whether or not that was an especially long time, Steph didn't know; she had no idea what was usual, let alone how long it had been since she had arrived at the hospital along with Maxine… two and a half hours? Three hours? She couldn't be sure, not given that keeping track of time had been the least of her concerns upon being separated, forced to release Maxine's hand from her grip and sent off alone into the waiting area in a state of morbid uncertainty.

She had become so accustomed to the deafening silence of unknowing and anxiety that it took her a few moments longer than normal to even register Maxine's name being called across the room. Yet the moment it clicked, suddenly Steph was bolt upright, pulled from her daydream, heart in her mouth as a fresh wave of what could only be described as nausea combined with a sudden sense of light-heartedness curiously combined into one.

This was it; she was more than aware of that. These next few minutes could alter everything she knew beyond all recognition, and she was completely powerless.

"You're family of Maxine Barlow?" the doctor asked Steph as she approached, her voice level, steady. Her manner was such a stark contrast from the state in which she found herself now, on edge, tense, considerably more terrified than she had ever felt before in all her life, that it was almost laughable, Steph pondered. In some ways, she almost envied her. This was her job, her profession; she was employed to remain emotionally detached, to distinguish with perfect clarity between the patient and the person before her. Given the frenzy of tangled, overwhelming emotions she was currently fighting, Steph found herself wishing in some ways that she could possess the ability to emotionally detach herself, too. The mere anticipation of the emotional torment which might be brought upon her within the next few minutes was almost unbearable, and she knew that the actual experience would undoubtedly be a thousand times worse.

Yet with the ability to emotionally detach herself from this particular situation would come a lack of compassion and consideration, as Steph knew deep down. The pain of potentially losing Maxine forever, that and the very real possibility that she might already be gone… that pain was what made her human, compassionate, the best technique available to a person to make their true feelings known and demonstrate their own caring nature.

Though somehow, right now that wasn't much in the way of a comfort.

"Yes, that's right," Steph replied anxiously, clenching her hands around each other tightly in a desperate attempt to prevent them from shaking- one which failed rather miserably. "What's happened? Is she alright, is she stable? She's not… she's…?"

"She's stable for the moment, yes," the doctor confirmed. "My colleagues and I conducted a diagnostic laparotomy when she was brought in, what we found was that several injuries were sustained…"

"Hang on, hang on, a diagnostic what?" The medical terminology was washing over Steph completely, only confusing matters, causing her to feel ignorant, pathetic, horribly out of control. She was Maxine's… guardian, after all, she was Maxine's guardian; surely it was her responsibility to understand the situation her foster daughter was currently in, to be as knowledgeable as possible and therefore as well prepared as she could be to do what was best, make the right decisions. And yet already she was failing rather spectacularly. She had failed Maxine with her own ignorance, unable to best ascertain how to help her due to a complete lack of understanding as far as the terminology went. She was a failure, a complete and utter failure.

Maxine deserved better, far better. But aside from a psychopathic, aggressive boyfriend, Steph was all she had.

"A diagnostic laparotomy, we use it to ascertain the extent of a patient's injuries in cases like this," the doctor explained. "In Maxine's case, several injuries were sustained…"

"Such as?" She was being incredibly impatient and downright rude and she knew it, but the anticipation was simply too much to bear.

"There's considerable damage to her small intestines at the bullet entry wound, severe damage to the abdominal wall, internal bleeding to the stomach, though thankfully the bullet caught her rib rather than penetrating her liver…"

It was all too much, this horrifically long list of injuries, of could haves and would haves and still the agonising uncertainty of the prognosis. In some ways, Steph wasn't particularly concerned as to the extent of Maxine's injuries; she could cope with that, would help Maxine through it as best she could. All she needed to know was that she was going to be alright, that despite her initial fears, Earl Kelly had not succeeded in bringing about the end of life as she had known it for the past two years.

"But she's alright?" Steph pleaded, interrupting the doctor mid-flow once again, dimly conscious of the fact that she was only confirming any judgement which might have already been made of her by this doctor as pushy and impatient, though far too concerned to particularly care. Surely panicked relatives far worse than her must have graced the doors of A and E over the years? Steph hoped so. She had already been labelled as interfering by Maxine today; in light of the afternoon's events, she was feeling guilty enough as it was, already doubting herself, worrying that perhaps she was too interfering as a guardian, too controlling. The last thing she needed was an additional, professional diagnosis of pushy, wannabe parent.

"She's stable for now," the doctor confirmed. "But the next 24 hours are going to be crucial. We're still waiting for her to come round- hopefully she'll start showing some signs of consciousness in the next couple of hours. She's in intensive care for the moment, she needs close monitoring for now given she's just had major surgery…"

"Major surgery?" Steph repeated, more than a little horrified. She was far from knowledgeable as far as medical matters went only too conscious of it given her present surroundings; she had known of course that a close-range bullet wound to the abdomen was bad news if not treated quickly, but major surgery… major…

"Maxine's suffered a close-range gunshot wound, Miss Haydock, I'm afraid it is a very serious injury," the doctor explained, her tone suddenly gaining a little in the way of compassion, as though sensing that what little composure Steph was currently managing to maintain was unlikely to survive very much longer at all without it. "We're doing all we can for her. As I said, we've transferred Maxine to intensive care for now; she'll stay there until she comes round and then we'll reassess the situation if she begins to show signs of improvement…"

"And… and if she doesn't?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," the doctor replied, her brisk manner returned once more. "As you're Maxine's guardian you can sit with her on the intensive care ward, I'm afraid no other visitors will be permitted though…"

"But I can see her? I can see her now?" Steph was sure that Janeece would have something to say regarding the family only with the exception of guardians of under eighteens rule when she could put off her visit no longer, but for now she did her best to push that particular concern to the back of her mind. She would deal with that when she had to; for now, all her efforts had to be focused upon Maxine. Even if at this stage there was very little that she could do to help, she would never be able to live with herself if she failed to invest every last scrap of energy she had within her in attempting to pull her foster daughter back from the brink of unconsciousness.

"Of course, I'll take you through. Now you need to be prepared, it might be a little unsettling at first, even upsetting, seeing Max…"

"I know, I know all that," Steph said hurriedly, fast losing her patience. "It's fine, I can find it, Intensive Care, you said?"

"No, I'll walk you over there," the doctor said firmly, turning on her heel and proceeding down the corridor, motioning to Steph to follow. "Is there anyone I can call to be with you…?"

"No, no it's fine," Steph insisted. "Honestly. I'd rather it was just the two of us, Max and I, that's how it normally is…"

"Miss Haydock," the doctor sighed, continuing to lead Steph through the hospital. "You have to understand, there's a good chance Maxine might remain unconscious for…"

"I know, I know," Steph repeated insistently, struggling to maintain her composure. "I know that. I… I just… I just want to sit with her," she managed at last, voice stammering as she fought to hold back her tears. "I just want her to know I'm there, you know? I just need her to know I'm here…. That I…" She couldn't bring herself to say it. "That I'm here."

She had expected the walk along the clinical, uninviting hospital corridors to last a lifetime, cliché as it was. Yet as it turned out, the opposite entirely was true; that trek to the intensive care unit was over far too quickly. It was only as she stood outside the door, unable to muster the courage to push it open and confront the horrific nightmare in which she was trapped, that Steph realised she had been relying upon that cliché being at least partly routed in fact. Still it hadn't quite hit her, the events of the afternoon; those hours sat in the waiting room in tormented anticipation had felt rather surreal, limbo-like, a curious state somewhere between dream and reality in which differentiating between the truth and the figments of her imagination was a practically impossible task.

The end result was the state of fierce denial in which Steph found herself now, knowing full well what she was likely to find on the other side of the intimidating double doors marked 'intensive care' but somehow unable to accept it completely. Maxine; it was Maxine who would be lying still, pale, lifeless in one of the hospital beds, Maxine attached to a network of wires and tubes, Maxine whose fragile pulse fuelled the harsh rhythmic bleeping of a heart rate monitor.

It was wrong, all wrong. And the moment she stepped onto the ward, Steph would be able to deny it was happening no longer.

She tiptoed across the ward as though in a dream world; murky, hazed, eyes raw from all the tears of earlier and vision consequently blurred. She was afraid, so horribly afraid, all the time fighting a terrible urge to turn on her heel and run, get herself as far away from this nightmare as she possibly could.

Perhaps, in hindsight, it was something of a blessing that she spotted Maxine's motionless form so quickly.

Whether or not Steph would have had the courage to proceed with this journey into uncertainty and emotional torment much longer had she not was indeed debatable.

But as soon as her eyes fell upon Maxine, Steph knew at once that there was no bottling out, no turning back, no leaving this room for the foreseeable future.

She was needed. Even if Maxine couldn't tell her so in words, if she wouldn't have admitted to it regardless of being in possession of the power of speech, Steph knew still that she was needed.

And that was enough.

* * *

_So sorry it's been a while, I've been completely snowed under with coursework and training at the weekends, plus this was a difficult chapter to write and I wanted to spend the time on it to get it right. Hope it was OK, sorry again for the wait- I promise to do better next time if you review! _

_Thank you so, so much to WritingWhatsOnMyMind for your review, this chapter's for you :) Anyone else? Come on, you know you want to, I'm only carrying on with this if more of you are interested and want me to post more chapters- you have to let me know! A few words will do, and I accept anonymous reviews too :) Please? _

_Em xx_


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Hear my silent prayer, heed my quiet call,_

_When the darkened blues surround you;_

_Step into my sigh, look inside the light,_

_You will know that I have found you._

_'Dream catcher', Secret Garden_

She had expected to cry, the first time she laid eyes upon Maxine's still, frail body on the intensive care ward. It was a natural human reaction, she supposed, instinctual, to resort to crying as a means of expressing emotional upset in situations such as this.

Yet somehow she couldn't cry. There was a certain hopeless numb sensation in Steph's heart as she slowly, delicately, made her way around to the other side of the hospital bed, mechanically lowering herself into the chair already placed at the bedside.

She couldn't cry. The tears she had anticipated would fall at this particular stage in proceedings simply wouldn't come. It was as though she had indeed become just as cold and detached as she had previously half-hoped might be possible, before it had occurred to her that to allow that detachment to take place would consequently put her in a position of uncaringness, lacking in sympathy, in human compassion towards the person who had been a substantial part of her life for the last two years.

It was the denial, Steph was almost certain of it. She had placed herself in a ferocious state of denial, a stubborn state of disbelief. It wasn't real, all of this panic and confusion, of course it wasn't. She had only just located Maxine amongst those in real danger on the intensive care ward; any minute now she would open her eyes and everything would be fine… she would be fine, the doctors would discharge her, send her home with a prescription, that was all… she would be fine, Maxine would be fine…

Only when Steph stretched out her hand across the bed sheets to take Maxine's in her own, and was confronted by something solid yet woefully cold, even more so than in the ambulance did it finally hit home.

Maxine simply wasn't going to just open her eyes and recover in a matter of days, no matter how badly Steph willed her to. Perhaps, god forbid, she was never going to open her eyes at all.

And the most frightening part of it all was that she was completely and utterly powerless.

It wasn't a position she was used to being in as far as Maxine was concerned. Steph had become involved in her foster daughter's life in the first place out of a desire to help her in turning her life around, unable to fight a stubborn refusal to give up on her as so many others had done before for reasons she couldn't quite explain; not even now, two years on.

But regardless of her reasons for becoming involved in the train wreck that had been Maxine's life when she had first taken her in, the fact remained that Steph had been rather successful in helping her turn things around. She hadn't managed to transform Maxine into the perfect teenager, admittedly, but as far as Steph was concerned, what did that matter provided that she was happy, away from the bad influences who had previously dominated her life? She was more than aware that she was far from the perfect parent, but still she knew that Maxine was far from the distrusting, neglected young girl she had originally taken into her home. They had come a long way in the last two years, and overall, Steph liked to think she had done a whole lot more good than bad in taking Maxine in.

The point was, that she wasn't used to feeling helpless when it came to her foster daughter. She was used to being able to make a difference, being able to help, somehow, even if it was only the slightest impact she was able to have. Anything was better than nothing, and yet now; now it all seemed to Steph completely and utterly hopeless. Maxine's hands were so cold, so still, so lifeless… the very prospect of attempting to have something of an impact this time around was hopelessly overwhelming.

She wasn't a miracle worker, after all. Far from it, in fact; her success rate so far had more to do with luck than it did with any natural parenting talent, and Steph knew it only too well. It had all been easy enough when things were going well, when Maxine had only been particularly high maintenance in the behaviour department, but this was something considerably different. Steph wasn't convinced that she was particularly good in a crisis; this kind of crisis, that was. She could deal with minor emotional dilemmas perfectly well but this… this set of circumstances was entirely alien, unknown.

If Maxine could just open her eyes, just pull herself out of the unconscious state she was currently trapped within, then it would all be easier to cope with. It wouldn't be so terrifying if only she were conscious, responsive, Steph concluded as she squeezed Maxine's hand harder still. She had fallen back into her earlier trap of somehow believing that if only she clenched hard enough, the pressure would become too much for Maxine to bear and she would be forced back into consciousness, if nothing else, merely to complain that all the bones in her hand would be shattered if Steph didn't let go. Just the thought of it caused the essence of a smile to form on her lips; right now, under current circumstances, Steph wasn't convinced she would even kick up a fuss as to the snappiness of Maxine's tone.

She simply wanted to hear her voice, to know that there was still at least a faint flicker of hope of some degree of recovery. Surely that wasn't too much to ask for?

"Max?" Steph whispered tentatively. "Max, can you hear me, love?"

_Of course she can't_, a cruel, obnoxious voice in the back of her head interrupted harshly, taunting her. _She's in a coma; it's obvious, isn't it? Maybe the doctors haven't said as much, but come on, think about it. It's a coma, that's what it is. Coma… coma…_

That harsh, solitary word echoed through Steph's mind over and over, the final syllable of each blending angrily into the first of the next repetition in a seemingly endless cycle. And still Maxine failed to respond. Her complete lack of a reaction shouldn't have surprised her in theory; Steph knew that deep down, not in light of what the doctors had told her before even allowing her onto the Intensive Care ward. But still she couldn't fight the growing sense of fear threatening to consume her completely, the artificial bleeping of the Maxine's heart rate monitor the closest thing to a reply she could hope to receive.

"Max?" Steph tried again, surrendering to the increasing desperation creeping into her tone. "Maxine? Max, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"

No response.

One more time, Steph promised herself. One more attempt to gain something in the way of a response and then she would leave it, drop the issue for the time being.

"Max?" she whispered one last time, voice suddenly rather inexplicably numb. "I just need you to let me know you're OK sweetheart, please? That's all I want, I just want to know you're alright. Please?"

But nothing. Still, despite Steph's best efforts, absolutely nothing. Nothing at all, save the steady rise and fall of Maxine's chest, to suggest that the heart rate monitor beside her was accurate at all.

A part of Steph was intent upon the fact that she should continue talking, that despite Maxine's persistent failure to provide a response a part of her might be picking up her voice, somehow aware of the current happenings around her, at least a little. But try as she might, she simply couldn't force out the words. It was most unusual for Steph to find herself so completely lost for words, but then, she reminded herself grimly, the situation in which she found herself now was more or less as far from usual as it was physically possible to become. She wasn't the only one who had always possessed a talkative streak; Maxine could always be counted upon to have an opinion on anything and everything.

Anything and everything, it seemed, except the high pitched, rhythmic beeping of the hospital machines, the bright intensity of the artificial lights on the Intensive Care ward and the mass of wires snaking across her pale, lifeless form like a mass of cobras waiting for the ultimate moment of human weakness, anticipating the perfect moment to strike. To strike down upon her and cause her grievous harm just as… just as…

Just as _he_ had. In one swift movement, _he_ had potentially altered the course of Maxine's life forevermore, and there wasn't a single thing Steph could do in order to put it right again.

"OK," she found herself uttering now, more to herself than to anyone else; it wasn't as if there was anyone to listen. "OK." A new wave of panic began to wash over her slowly yet steadily, a tide of despair and fear lapping against the sands of an isolated beach, consuming more and more of the calm and tranquillity which lay before it by the minute. She felt redundant, utterly redundant; there was nothing she could do to remedy the situation in the slightest and yet Steph knew there wasn't a chance she could possibly drag herself away. Perhaps her presence was achieving nothing whatsoever, but all the same, she knew full well she would never be able to forgive herself were she to leave now and something changed, whether it be an improvement in Maxine's condition or...

Or that terrifying, potential outcome still lurking tauntingly at the very back of Steph's mind that she simply couldn't bring herself to confront.

All Steph could do was hold her hand; sit there in silence, useless, worse than, even, increasingly aware that surely there was something more she should be doing in a desperate attempt to make things right again, and yet completely at a loss as to what on earth it might be.

Janeece… Janeece would know, Steph sighed, almost enviously. A wave of incomprehensible jealously had begun to wash over her bleakly the moment that particular thought entered her head, and once it was established, to push it away once more proved next to impossible. Janeece, or Chlo, or… any of Maxine's friends, Steph decided grimly, anyone else in her foster daughter's life would most likely be more use to her right now that she was proving herself to be.

The truth was that she and Maxine had grown further and further apart of late; an emotional gulf tearing them apart through the mechanism of a decreasing ability to connect, to understand each other, to make sense of each other's decisions and desires. Earl Kelly, Steph realised grimly, an almost primeval sense of anger and protective instinct overcoming her at the mere thought of his part to play in all of this. The blame in its entirety could be laid at his door; not just for rendering Maxine in this state that afternoon, but for it all, for causing that gulf, the difference of opinions which had led to much heated debate over the past few weeks, slowly yet surely driven Maxine away. Yes, Maxine and Steph had had their disputes in the past, but nothing like those triggered by Earl Kelly. It had been those near-constant arguments as to his suitability as a boyfriend which had caused the rift between Maxine and Steph, there was no denying it. Not only was this entire miserable, desperate situation in itself the fault of Earl Kelly, but it was also his fault that now, sat anxiously beside her and desperately willing Maxine to show something in the way of a visible sign of life, Steph hadn't the faintest idea what to say to her.

Janeece would know, Chlo would know… either one of them in this moment would be able to sit beside Maxine's still body, hold her hand and come out with something in the way of words of reassurance capable of pulling Maxine out of her current unconsciousness. But not Steph, she had lost touch over the past few weeks to the extent that now, she didn't even know where to begin. What's the point, she sighed hopelessly to herself; that was all she could think of. If she can't hear me anyway then what's the god damn point to it all?

But it wasn't just the distant nature of their relationship in the weeks prior to that devastating moment which haunted Steph now, heart becoming increasingly numb the colder Maxine's hand grew in her own. Did Maxine hate her? Had even, it wasn't as if she were capable of such logical thoughts at present. Had she hated her, in those brief moments before Earl Kelly had pulled the trigger? Quite possibly, Steph concluded with an overwhelming pang of guilt. She wouldn't have blamed Maxine in the slightest if she had. Before this devastating turn of events it had all seemed so clear, so black and white and beyond all shadow of a doubt: Maxine was with Earl Kelly, and Earl Kelly was bad, bad news. Why would Steph possibly need to know any more than that? Maxine was still just a child, Earl even more so, a sick, twisted one admittedly but no more than a child. They were too young to fully appreciate what love was, the two of them, of course they were. _Maxine_ was too young to appreciate what love truly was. She might have thought she did but she couldn't, not really, not with Earl Kelly, and so the logical solution as it appeared to Steph was to do her utmost to keep Maxine away from him where she could, keep her close, safe, protected. It was a phase, nothing more, and sooner or later Maxine would move on.

That was why she had been so unwilling to listen when Maxine had appeared so unexpectedly in the middle of her class inspection. Steph wished she could say hand on heart that she had truly wanted to listen, yet knew at the same time that it simply wasn't the case. She had still been angry at Maxine; angry for refusing to listen earlier in the day when she had attempted to knock some sense into her, angry for being so determined she was ready to have a baby with Earl despite everything she had already been through, all the time and effort she had put in to turning her life around since. Yes… Steph had been angry, she knew she had, and that anger had clouded her judgement. Now, with the agonising benefit of hindsight, she played that scene over and over again in her head, each time seeing the devastation, the anger, and just the hint of fear in Maxine's eyes as she stood there in the doorway that she had been so horribly blind to before. There was no point asking herself how on earth she had managed to miss it, not when Steph knew the answer already. She had missed it because she had momentarily given up the battle to save Maxine from repeating past mistakes, pushed her out of her mind and focused all her attentions on her own stupid inspected lesson.

For those few minutes, Steph had done the very thing she had criticised so many before her for doing too readily: writing Maxine off as a lost cause. And those few minutes had been enough to change everything.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't remain sat uselessly holding Maxine's hand knowing full well that this was all her fault, not when each time she dared allow herself to glance down at Maxine's still, lifeless features, those last words she had uttered before disappearing away back into the corridor echoed through her mind over and over again.

_I'm sorry_, that was what she had said. _I'm sorry_.

"No, sweetheart," Steph whispered, talking more to herself than clinging to a vain hope that somehow Maxine might be hearing her. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

And with that, she dropped Maxine's hand from her own tight grip and fled the Intensive Care Unit.

* * *

**So sorry for disappearing for so long, my life has been dominated by exam revision for the past few months :( Luckily I'm almost finished for the year, and I now have much for free time, so I'll be able to update much more frequently for now on. This one's for Kate if she's reading it- happy birthday, hope you had a great day! **

**If you want an update, you know what you have to do, leave me a review and let me know you enjoyed it :) Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and reviewing so far, I'm so sorry for having to abandon this temporarily until now but hopefully you're still interested and want me to carry on writing now I finally have time- be sure to let me know if you do!**

**Em xx**


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